


Wise Is the Coward

by Halighfataliter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempts at poetic prose, M/M, Pre - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:32:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halighfataliter/pseuds/Halighfataliter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scattered thoughts. Maybe he was a hero. Even for the coward, for the lonely, for Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wise Is the Coward

**Author's Note:**

> Punctuation liberties are intentional. It is not for some pretentious "new-author" effect, but it just _felt_ better that way, I guess. Comments are welcome.

 

 

Wise is the coward, you think

In the white sky that is your bed.

You fly like a free child, you bite into the clouds and laugh among the winds

And you come down dancing like a feather

Limbs numb and heart racing,

Your head rests on his chest

 

It all comes down to loneliness, you think

You are three, you are twelve and you are now nineteen and always you are lonely

Among a crowd, friends in a dungeon, family, warriors,

You are always alone.

You’ve seen it in the eyes of countless others

They cry and scream, whimper and fight,

But in the end they are alone

Suffer alone and die alone.

You don’t bother.

 

A couple hours fully lived are better than a lifetime of questioning, you think

You do not ponder about him and his reasons

Neither about consequences and reality

Answers are infinite, a parallelism of truths.

Your head’s a thousand splinters and you are fading away

But at night he makes you whole

Burns you, devours you, rhythms your pulse

Until the world feels too sharp for you to even think

You taste air on your tongue and you smile,

It is all that matters.

 

It takes universal solace to make a hero, you think

That is what makes him extraordinary and what makes it sad

He is not your hero, neither is he his or hers

He is a hero, the hero of thousands

For you, he slips in between foggy days and blank thoughts

Lights you alive and makes strange things rise up in you like fumes.

Good things, lovely things and you wrap your arms around him and pour your soul into his mouth.

 

You don’t love him, you don’t know him, you don’t even talk to him, you think

Sometimes though, sometimes, you look, really look, into his eyes

It is a frightening sight, unfathomable and so very loud.

You see screaming and clawing and an ocean of black.

So maybe once or twice you lean away a bit and frown down at him

But you don’t know what to ask and you never knew how to give

 

He needs this, maybe wants it, you think

He comes back every night that is not a battle

Kisses you, hands all over your body

Hard against you and for you.

He thrusts and whispers, burns away and reaches for the sky

You feel, maybe, it makes you even.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010.


End file.
